Vernie hadn’t looked in the coffin because she’d got a good look at him when he was born.
The woman in my mind just now? That was my mother. Resurrection driven, gliding in and out as easily as a paschal moon, hungry for a feast.
While my sister was forming in my mother’s belly, my cousin Beverly Anne was dying in her mother’s arms.
I ran into the church and had never been met with a more peaceful atmosphere in my life. None of the foulness that I’d had a whiff of this afternoon could ever enter here.